The Grateful Dead

Cafe Society
1

OK. I know there are lots of Deadheads on here. I want to hear concert stories that are more about the experience than the music. I have a few, not being a Deadhead myself but a purveyor of psychedelic substances and I caught the last wave of the ride of the Dead in the early 1990’s.

To be clear, I never really liked their music then or now. Nothing has changed, I appreciate them for what they are and make no bones about that. BUT…

…I went to my first show at RFK stadium in 1992. Steve Miller was opening and it was a damn fine time to listen to that music coming faintly from the stadium as I lounged, tripping my holy ass off, on the side of the Potomac River while so many people hawked their wares. I recall veggie burritos for a dollar, “doses” quasi-silently whispered through the crowd (which I’d already taken advantage of), balloons for three dollars, import beers for a dollar and any manner of “magic rocks” and any other damn thing that would get a dirty hippie into the show going on.

“I need a miracle”! Yeah, so do i, motherfucker. Quit begging and sell some more veggie burritos and maybe you’ll get in.

I then and now despise this communal trip whereby I’m supposed to grant a hippie his “miracle”. Fuck him and you for thinking so. Buy your ticket or go home.

Anyway, the place was a riot of colors and activity. I recall directly a guy as I was clinging to a friend’s shirt (tye-dye, natch) run out of the crowd and throwing a bottle of beer, unopened, at a cop car that was slowly cruising along our human pathway.

It was (and this may be the acid speaking) as if they expected such a transgression and LEAPT out of the car almost simultaneously as that happened. I’m not sure what happened as they vanished into the crowd after their perpetrator but the obvious joke became calls of “Arrest the guy in the tye dye!”

Funny.

There was never a more desperate sound than hippies (or what passed for them in 1992) uttering a gasp of disappointment after their nitrous balloon popped on blades of grass as they sat to consume them (usually prefaced by “Aw, man!”). I laughed myself silly at their dumbassery (as I myself consumed nitrous balloons, but carefully managed as a birth to a hand).

Lastly, I will never in my life forget the uproar amongst the hippies when “Casey Jones” was played. They were in a FUROR. Apparently it hadn’t been played live for decades, and somehow these acid heads remembered it. It was groovy.

2

I’ve seen the Dead live maybe a dozen times. I don’t remember a single concert. :wink:

3

I felt a lot like Hunter Thompson (before who I knew whom he was, there was a lot of denial and excess in 1992) where I was this detached, stoned observer. I simultaneously hated and wished to embrace this culture while I was out of my mind,

I recall the music being secondary to the experience, at least to me. I remember finding my friends’ car ahead of him and wondering what would happen to me while some guy cried repeatedly for Linda, to the point where even the Heads yelled at him to shut up.

I awoke to the Linda crier dancing on the trunk of a car, twin balloons in hand, I guess Linda showed up and unlocked the trunk for him so he could get at his nitrous tank. Happiness was restored.

4

I lived right on the main road to all the shows they played in Vegas in the 90’s (Silver Bowl). I bought cases and cases of beer and sold them for a buck a can to the backed up traffic in front of my place.

One very memorable moment came during the extended drum solo at one show. The guys are going at it, and a huge thundercloud seemed to come from nowhere, and started shooting lightning and thunder over Sunrise Mountain, to the North of the stadium, and almost directly behind the stage (a little to the right, but from where I was sitting, it was near perfect!)

The crowd went wild!

I managed to win tickets every year, so it was a great deal for me, always! I never “miracled” my extra ticket, or traded it for drugs. I even turned down an offer for sex with a filthy hippy chick. I settled for cold, hard cash. :wink: The going rate back then was usually $100.

5

If you don’t like us dirty hippies, what the fuck were you doing at Dead shows?

I went to several dozen (Grateful Dead & Garcia Band) shows between 1977-1995, most of 'em on LSD, and I remember them clearly…including my ONLY (sob) “China Cat>Know You Rider” second set opener in upstate NY in 1980.

I’m convinced they knew I was out there, and started every damn second set with “Playing in the Band” followed shortly after by “Stella Blue” in the slow ballad slot. I am so sick of “Stella Blue.”

“Uke’s in the audience again, Jerry…I can feel his little beady eyes…get ready…”

6

A friend and I planned to ride our bicycles from San Francisco down the coast to LA, where some other friends were living. This was in 1982 and we were living in New Jersey where we grew up, so California was still the golden west coast dream land to us. We learned that the Dead were playing at the Greek Theater in Berkeley so we thought we’d go up and see the shows. Of course we just had our bicycles and had no idea how we’d get up there. We’d figure it out later.

We landed at San Francisco airport and lo and behold our friends from LA had driven up to meet us. We squeezed our two bicycles and our baggage into the trunk of their wheezy old Volvo and off we went to Berkeley.

We needed tickets and saw this guy on a corner waving tickets so we got tickets no problem, then we bought and ate some 'shrooms and in we went in to the show. We sat up on the grass and I couldn’t believe our good fortune as the 'shrooms came on and there we were, on a hillside watching the Dead blaze away as the sun set. And this was just day one of our big California adventure.

The only problem was that as the sun set, everybody started pulling coats out of their bags and we were wondering what was going and then the cold came…

But we survived. We spent the night in Marin County somewhere then drove back up to Berkeley for the Sunday show, got tickets, got our get high stuff (man did we get high), and unbelievably got on the floor in the sand mere feet from the stage. Great show!

That night our friends dropped us off in San Jose where my friend had to take care of some school business. We drank beer, put our bikes together, got some sleep, went to the University, then started our ride out to the coast.

7

I attended a concert with a lady friend in the early-mid 1980s. The young lady had seen the band before, but it had been a long time. We were on the ground level and it was hard to see. The band came on and began a song, then a cheer rang out as Garcia came on stage. The lady hopped up on my back to see and I heard her exclaim, “He’s fat! He’s bald! He’s old!”

Dennis

8

The Dead haven’t been Grateful since I was a kid, but I got to see their current incarnation, with John Mayer on lead vocals, last summer at the Gorge. Just driving there is an experience - from the city, to the foggy forests of western WA, over the pass, down into the farmland, and then a long stretch of desert before you cross the Columbia river and get there. Perfect setting for a band like that.

I was completely clear-headed for the entire show - couldn’t drink as I had to drive back to my hotel room afterward, and I was offered a hit once or twice, but my employer does randoms so I politely declined. Pretty solid show, good mix of young people and old Deadheads. Mayer is no Jerry Garcia, but he plays some great blues guitar and he plays with the other guys like they’ve been together for ages.

9

I can’t bring myself to see the new incarnation of the Dead. Without Jerry, there can be no Jerry magic. I did see the first couple of Further festivals, and the band wasn’t billing themselves as The Dead or something similar. Plus, Hot Tuna and Los Lobos were there. This is not a knock on anyone who checks them out today, especially if you never experienced it with Jerry there.

10

Great stories, guys. Sorry about the “dirty hippies” comments. I was an unapologetic Republican at the time, having recently returned from Gulf Wars I (Daddy’s War) and I thought I knew what was up. I didn’t.

I recall my second show (only went to two) at Buckeye Lake the same year as the RFK show (where they unveiled “Casey Jones” live for the first time in a couple decades, the hippies were aghast with wonder at this). I got separated from my friends whom wandered into the nest of microphones in the taper section and I ended up spending the entire show with some random girl I’d met there, dosed to the gills on the gentle crest of a hill overlooking the stage and making out with her to the sounds of “Space”.

Buckeye Lake is a cool place to see a concert due to the natural ampitheater built into the landscape. Anybody ever been there?

11

I saw them twice. I really loved them but I wasn’t a camp follower.
The first was at The New Monk in Berkeley in June, 1971.
It was billed as a Jerry Garcia-Merl Saunders session but
the rest of the band, including Pigpen, showed up. Tom Fogerty
showed up too. It was a small crowd, but (for you real old-timers)
Charlie Reich was there! I knew him from school.

The second time, I ferried a bunch of tripping college mates
in a '70 Country Squire wagon to Waterbury, Connecticut in September,
1972 for a show at The Palace Theater. I recently found a track from that
concert. A great rendition of Brown-Eyed Woman:

The music never stopped.
12

He was fat, and he was old, but Jerry was never bald.

13

Yeah, THIS ONE.

14

What a weird band they were. Just when you thought they were this disjointed jam band with poor harmony vocals, they throw you pearls when Jerry was on his game.

I always loved hard rock, metal, alt-rock, etc more than anything but I can peer behind the curtain and see the genius of the Dead.

One of the things I noticed immediately was that they didn’t play loud, at least not for the two lonely shows I attended. They were relatively quiet and nuanced, if you had the right kind of ears to listen. They fucked with your head in a playful way with their stage show, visuals (which may or may not have actually been there), and so on.

Is it hippie mountain music? Is it rock and roll? It’s kinda difficult to quantify. I liked the whole scene when I attended, even if part of me despised the hippie community that traveled around to follow them. “Get a job!” I thought. Now I don’t care and it doesn’t matter.

What’s unique about my exposure to them at that time was how corporate they became. Everyone knows their money was derived from touring and not album sales, but this was after the release of “Touch Of Grey” (which I think to this day is their only charting single) and there was a brief, beautiful but ultimately fabricated renaissance for the Dead in the early 1990’s. Weird and strange while mixed with psychedelic drugs. I am convinced to this day that LSD or Psylocybin is an important part of enjoying their music and the whole scene without compromise.

To those that love their music and went to shows and remained sober…I salute you. That never could have been me. I didn’t and don’t love their music enough.

15

I saw them in 1970 when I was 18 years old. Here’s a link to the show:

Here’s my story - my gf and I were sold counterfeit tickets and denied entrance at the door. Crestfallen, we wandered around the side of the building where folks were helping each other up to a second story window. It being a gym, after all, you crash landed onto piles of wrestling mats, thus softening the fall.

We did get good seats after all (no-shows?). The opening act was a chimp act. I doubt you see that kind of thing anymore.

After that I grew up and didn’t listen to the Dead much anymore…

16

Saw them once, Ventura County fairgrounds mid '80s, because a roommate wanted me to go. Drove up from LA in the AM, picked up tickets on the street there, bought doses on the way in, and blazed away. Typically beautiful sunshiney (ha!) California day. Didn’t understand what all the FAT MAN ROCKS logo gear was about til I saw Garcia onstage. I kinda dug the whole scene as much as the music, although I could have done without that tiresome and pointless jam thing at the break.

Best memory was watching the band play on while the hills in the distance were burning

17

Nobody annunciated like Jerry. :slight_smile:

18

I saw them about 15 times starting in 1987. Best story that comes to mind is from Las Vegas in 1994. My wife (at the time my fiancee) & I drove out to Vegas for the shows with another couple that I’d been to several shows with previously. And it was hot. Ridiculously hot. They used to play Vegas in late May most years, but this year they had to move a bunch of the summer shows around to accommodate stadium schedules for the World Cup that the U.S. hosted. So the Vegas stadium shows were in late June.

117 degrees Fahrenheit. I shit you not. Even when the sun went down it was still 105 or so. I remember being out at like 3 AM on that trip and seeing a thermometer reading 98 degrees. Yikes.

So anyway, my wife had never been around anything like this in her life. Nothing remotely like it. I tried to clue her in a bit about it, but how much can you really prepare someone for that scene? The parking lot was an oppressively hot dust bowl, so we didn’t spend a lot of time cruising around there, and got into the stadium where we could get a little refuge from the sun in the concourses while we waited for sunset and show time.

Through all of this weirdness, heat, and music that quite frankly is an acquired taste for most folks, my wife was a trooper. A trooper, that is, up until most of the way through the second set that featured a 33 minute Drums/Space segment that would test the patience of even the most ardent Deadhead. They got into The Last Time out of Space, and then started Stella Blue.

I love Stella Blue, it’s one of my favorite songs, and in 7 years or so of seeing them this was the first time I’d seen them pull it out. Problem is, right at that time, my wife was pulling on my arm, telling me that she’d had all of the evening she could take and she needed to get to AC. Now. Let’s go to the car, the friends can catch up to us, just get me out of here and get some AC working.

But it’s Stella Blue. I have this life altering decision to make. Piss off the woman that I love, possibly to an irreparable extent, or walk out of a Dead show right as they’re starting to play Stella Blue. You can see my dilemma. I gave it a couple of seconds of thought, and said “OK, let’s go” as I held back my distress at missing this long awaited song. And out to the car we go. Our friends stayed behind for the rest of the show while we luxuriated in air conditioned comfort in our car waiting for them.

So after the show ends we’re waiting for them to come out with the huge throng of people. And waiting. And waiting some more. At some point, I decided to leave her there and go out on a recon mission to see if I could find them in the parking lot, no luck. I get back to the car, and the cops are starting to roust people to get out of the parking lot. I try to explain that we still need to find our friends, like I expected them to give a shit. Leave. Now.

So I get in the car and get it in motion, I figured I’d just find a way to tool around the lot a couple of times to see if I could find the wayward couple, and I’m starting to wonder if they’d been arrested (not always the most law abiding souls they were). Or maybe they thought we just left and found another ride back to the hotel. No idea.

In a last ditch effort to find them, I made my way over to the parking lot on the other side of the stadium, and as I’m coming into it, lo and behold, there they are walking right toward us. I roll down the window and yell at them to get in. And they’re pissed at us! They’d been walking around the parking lot for probably an hour and a half, two hours trying to find us. THE WRONG FUCKING LOT! And they were convinced that we’d left them there. Once they figured out that they were actually in the wrong lot and we’d actually gone to great lengths not to leave them behind, they settled down and started arguing with each other over whose fault it was that they’d gone looking for their car in the wrong lot.

Anyway, the girls had enough of the whole thing that night, so my friend and I went back the next night without them and they played The Terrapin Station That Would Not End into another 30 minute Drums/Space, and I was never so glad not to have the woman I love by my side as I was that night…

Postscript: I got to one more Dead show after that, 6/3/95 at Shoreline. And I finally got my Stella Blue. And my wife and I are still together, although that might have been in jeopardy had my response to “I need to get out of here” had been different.

19

Zoog, that’s a great story. I am glad you got your Stella Blue. Damn, Jerry died not long after your last show, didn’t he? He died on my mom’s birthday, August 9th I believe.

I remember going to Virginia Beach on a whim (I lived in the DC area at the time) with a girl I liked and drunkenly stumbling around the boardwalk on that day (she got arrested, and since her friend there was where we were supposed to spend the night, I intentionally had myself arrested as well) and there were already Jerry Garcia remembrance t-shirts for sale…the same day he died!

I was amused and appalled at the commercialism, but then I recollected how vastly different the Dead community was from the sixties and seventies versus the brand new one that emerged in the nineties based on what I’d read about the former and experienced with the latter. I eventually concluded that it really was all about the psychedelic drugs.

20

I saw them over a dozen times in the early to mid 80s, all in Upstate NY (Glens Falls and Saratoga) and New England. I really just went the first time because my friends were going. And I had an awesome, acid-fueled time! I was completely hooked.

So here’s my story:

Saratoga Performing Arts Center, June 84. Over a dozen friends make our way up to the event and have an amazing time at a great show (The Other One!). The interesting part was getting home.

So it turned out that a)our ride there had left us and b)our other friends had no room either. Home is 45 minutes away by car. So we, my 2 buddies and I, on some fine acid, go searching through the parking lot to see if we can find a ride back to town.

Well, we got our miracle. A ride along with another half dozen freaks in the back of a rusted out pickup truck, screaming along the back roads of upstate NY.

We get dropped off in downtown Schenectady. And if you know Schenectady, you know this is not where you want to be almost broke and after midnight.

We start walking. We get to an all night supermarket around 1AM, and stumble in to buy some beer. When we come out, who do we run into? Our friends who couldn’t give us a ride before! And they wouldn’t give us a ride this time either. Dicks. So off we went.

We weren’t in any hurry, so we stopped along the way to have a few beers here and there and enjoy the buzz. Took a few more hours.

We got home as the sun was coming up. Finished our last beers, and passed out.